


Even In Death

by Being_Delirious



Series: Different Dream SMP AUs [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Afterlife, Best Friends, Character Death, Could Be Canon, Could be a ship, Could be just friends, Dream Smp, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Other, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Post-Manberg-Pogtopia War on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Romantic Friendship, idk - Freeform, they're dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:42:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27680894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Being_Delirious/pseuds/Being_Delirious
Summary: "When did we change?""I don't know,"
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Series: Different Dream SMP AUs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1999045
Comments: 5
Kudos: 167





	Even In Death

**Author's Note:**

> Two leaders are now dead. Both ghosts, both free.
> 
> Could be a ship? Could be platonic. You decide.

The breeze swiftly came by, running through the man's form with no resistance. It seems that the sun was preparing to set, already situated in the right direction of its departure. Sitting down on the grass field, he ran his hand through the lively green plants and wondered with interest as some phased through his hand.

Schlatt looked down at his outfit with a major surprise. It had been years since he last wore the light blue wool sweater. A sense of nostalgia hit him with ease and the man couldn't help but wonder as to when the last time he wore the comfortable sweater. The same thing could be asked for his white pants that greatly contradicted his usual black ones.

"Schlatt?"

The said man turned around. His eyes already wide whet it met with a pair of familiar dark ones. There, stood a few metres away was Wilbur Soot in his former glory. Gone were the rugged and dirty trench coat that he wore ever since he ran away from Manburg after getting exiled by Schlatt himself.

The horned-man would never admit it out loud, but he missed the way the old Wilbur had dressed in his yellow long-sleeved polyester and plain, pocketless pants along with his dark-grey beenie. 

He looked much saner in them. 

Jschlatt doesn't know when but the Brit had eventually closed the distance between them and took a seat beside him on the patch of grass. They sat there in silence, watching everything and nothing at the same time. Just basking in each other's presence - something they weren't able to do in a long time, - it was rather nice for a change.

"You died too, huh?" The first and seemingly last president of Manburg inquired. He refused to turn his head to the other and instead enjoyed the setting sun. What else was the reason for the man to be right there? Schlatt knows he for sure died from the heart attack from too much alcohol intake. 

Wilbur smiled with a tiny hint of a wince and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I did," he paused, trying to grasp a reasonable thought in his mind palace. "I uh, I died after blowing up L'manburg."

With the last sentence being said, Schlatt turned his head with a newfound surprise evident on his face. He knew that the Brit was on the edge of insanity; ready to blow up the place he had built with his very own hands, but he didn't think that Wil will actually go through with it. He doesn't know why but learning about that made him broke out a laugh.

"What?! Holy shit, you-" he wheezed, "you actually did it. Wil, you crazy bastard." 

This made the brunette smile as well, rolling his eyes in amusement as he lazily bumps his shoulder against the chortling man. "You're the one responsible for it, dipshit. You drove me to insanity."

Schlatt took his hand off his mouth to reveal a toothy grin as he nudges back against the taller male. "I always drive you crazy. When was the last time I didn't?" With this, both men laughed with indescribable satisfaction. Driven with contentment and freedom from all the ties they've accumulated whilst still alive.

When they both rode off the euphoria, the sun has already set with ease leaving them in chuckling mess. A few bumping shoulders, cherished glances, and joyful simpers, it all had eventually died down in a nothing but a soft glow of the moon and the cold night seeping in. 

A reminiscence of land they had fought for with blood and sweat; tears and alcohol. L'manburg, his unfinished symphony now filled with large craters from the explosives Wilbur had rigged with. Once cheery, now cold and lifeless.

But it'll rise soon. Wilbur knows it would. The land's in the hands of a good president.

"When did we change?" 

The question brought the Brit off of his mind and back to the present. It was a simple question with a voice sounding genuinely curious, yet it held so much meaning, so much power at the same time, especially when the question was uttered by Jschlatt.

Jschlatt, known as an aggressor. A man whose hunger for power had only grown once he stepped foot on the land - especially finding out who the previous handler of the said land was - The dictator with no goal in mind except for alcoholic beverages. 

The one with the horns and a mask of seemingly all things nefarious.

Jschlatt, someone Wilbur previously played and got to know on a much personal level. He wore his heart on his sleeve like a badge of a proud officer. With a smile that could rival against the sun's brightness; horns kept in proper condition. He was the spice in Wilbur's life when everything had appeared so grey.

When had they changed?

Going on separate ways with different companies. A single thread cut loose of their last connection. They had become so much different than they previously were. It shaped them to a person they could hardly recognize themselves with. A dictator? A president? Running a drug cartel, corrupted to a fault. Stronger, sharper, disdain and disappointment. 

It was like yesterday where they had just played by the beach. Building and moving their castles each moment the water closes by and calling each other names - let it be 'princess' or 'fucker' - it was just that simple. 

And now, they're dead. Fallen out of the cocoons they covered themselves with. Unable to fly as they wanted. Funny how fast the time may seem but long enough for someone to be completely anew. 

"I don't know," Wilbur responded with pure honesty. After all, what use was he to lie? 

Schlatt scoffed. Tilting his head, horns almost hitting the Brit by the head, he started. "Leadership, sportsmanship. Yes, we did own something, but we both lost everything."

"We lost ourselves," William added solemnly.

"Our friends-"

"-our loved ones-"

"-I'm surely going to miss good ol' drink." 

An unimpressed look was all it took for Schlatt to began fumbling with his sweater. "What? It was the only thing that kept me company while everyone left and joined your stupid revolution." He quickly defended, nonchalantly shrugging, "And now it's gone."

The poker face Wilbur had mastered eventually broke and turned into a goofy grin. The corner of his eyes crinkling when he started poking the other's sides. "And now you're stuck with me," He stated in a teasing tone that made the man with horns groan with no pure annoyance.

"Oh damn it. Even in death."

They laughed once again, fond nostalgia enveloping them both like a blanket against cold weather. It lasted throughout the night, both willing to catch up the past years they've wasted.

* * *


End file.
